


In His Arms

by TiaFoyz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: But mostly fluff, Cuddling, F/M, First Time, Oneshot, a tiny bit of angst, definitely sex, maybe set between season 2 and 3?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6289507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaFoyz/pseuds/TiaFoyz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She could feel his warm breath against the back of her neck when he murmured, "You're safe here." And that was all it took for her to close her eyes and succumb to the exhaustion. She trusted this man, whether she liked it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Arms

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time attempting to use AO3 so bare with me as I transfer select works over from FF.net.  
> Enjoy reading; criticism and reviews are always welcome! (Esp. in regard to characterization.)

The day had taken its toll on Abigail, her shoulders and neck tense with lingering concern while her head throbbed with a newly conceived migraine. With the exception of small fires and torches lit throughout the small village they were to remain at for the evening, and the members of both The Guard and the Grounders who were on watch, the community had fallen into slumber. Abby would have been quick to guess that few would truly get the rest they needed, with both Gustus' and Finn's deaths weighing heavy on hearts and conscience.

Even Clarke was asleep, and her body had remained still for the thirty minutes she'd been silent – something that her mother hadn't been convinced would ever happen. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the girl had agreed to curl up on a makeshift bed within one of the flimsy tin shacks that lined the village as opposed to the hard ground outside, but more of the credit was most likely attributable to her having said a proper goodbye to Finn.

A second makeshift bed was positioned against the wall closest to the barely-separating door, the Chancellor's heavy and restricting jacket having been shrugged off and laid over the foot of it, leaving her in a ragged, skin-tight t-shirt and the tattered jeans she'd been wearing day in and day out. Next to come off was the thick leather belt around her waist; she was almost sure it had been holding her frame together until she was proven wrong. Movements were slow and gentle, Abby being hyper-attentive to Clarke's sleeping figure. The last thing she wanted to be was responsible for waking the poor girl.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, the Chancellor tossed her less-than-clean hair into a ponytail before positioning a foot next to the opposite thigh on the cushioned surface so that she could loosen the boots that had withstood the pressure of each step she'd taken over the past two weeks. Repeat the process with the next foot, she thought to herself, the doctor in her always working methodically with precision. When the task was complete, taking far longer than it should have, Abby ran a hand up to the back of her neck, squeezing at the muscles that were causing her pain. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep just yet; despite the condition of her body, her mind was active and she had to take one last walk around the village just to be sure everything was in order and those she cared about were comfortable.

As she left the shack, which she could only presume had been someone's home before Finn Collins had taken eighteen lives in that village, she closed the door behind her, watching until the strip of light that reflected off of Clarke's face had completely disappeared. A nearby Grounder was quick to take note of her presence, register it, and choose not to say a word. Abby couldn't be sure whether the man was one of those who saw the benefits of their coalition or one of those who, like Gustus, were willing to shed blood to ensure it didn't occur, so she, too, chose to bite her tongue and merely offer a nod of acknowledgement.

The steps she took were slow, accommodating for the boots she'd loosened enough to slip out of. Dark eyes scanned every corner, every crevice, followed every shift of light. She was at the opposite end of the camp when the voice sounded from her left, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin. "Why aren't you asleep, Abby?" It was Kane, standing so still in the doorway of the building he was set to sleep in that she hadn't even seen him in the darkness. At her gasp and jolt of surprise, he was quick to step forward, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder, "Shh, shh. It's just me; I didn't mean to surprise you."

Her heart having momentarily stopped, it overcompensated by racing to catch up to its normal pace, her eyes darting between Kane's dark hues as she took a deep breath and settled. The hand on her shoulder remained, perhaps assisting in the process of calming her nerves. And then she realised that she had yet to answer his question. "Oh, I… I just wanted to take one last look around, make sure everything was alright." When the male raised a brow in what seemed to be suspicion or disbelief, she continued. "And after today, I know sleep isn't going to come too easily."

"Is Clarke asleep?" Kane inquired, hand sliding from her shoulder down her arm until it returned to his own side and he took a step back toward the darkened doorway of his shack, his eyes never leaving Abigail.

Her response was a nod of confirmation and a glance over her shoulder in the direction she'd come from. "I think she might actually sleep through the night."

His chin lowered toward his chest as he tried to catch eye contact with the woman again, his voice just above a whisper. "And what about you? You should at least try to get some rest." He was hoping she wouldn't come to realise the hypocrisy of his words; he was, after all, just as alert as his Chancellor.

"I'm fine, Marcus." The firmness of her tone was familiar, and solid. Anyone else would have let the topic go right there. But his stance didn't change, didn't soften, didn't hint that he was placated by that answer, so Abby was again forced to continue. "Besides, I don't like… I can't… I don't know… I'm not…" Another deep breath, which was let out in the form of hot and heavy frustration. With herself.

He was being so patient with her, trying his best to let her stumble until she found her own footing, but there was only so much more he could watch Abigail Griffin go through on her own before it starting chipping away at pieces of him, too. "Abby… c'mere," he suggested, offering a hand to her, palm-up, as he stepped backward into the tin shed. She didn't take his hand, but she did follow him inside. Her attention was drawn to a small lantern that had been lit and set on the ground next to his bed, and note was taken of the fact that his small quarters were much better organized than hers and Clarke's happened to be – the blanket atop the bed was even neatly folded.

"Lay down," Kane suggested next. There was no demand in his words, merely invitation. Abby hesitated, watching him as he removed his own jacket and hung it on a stick that protruded from the wall to create a hook.

"Marcus…" her voice seemed small even to her; the protest that she was attempting to make wasn't something she felt. "We can't…"

Gesturing toward the bed, Kane reiterated. "Just lay down, Abby. You need to rest." This time, there was something more than an invitation, but nothing forceful.

The Chancellor raised a brow, her gaze traveling over the bed once again. What harm could it cause? She'd missed the feeling of weight on the other side of her bed since Jake was floated. And Marcus had been one of the few things keeping her on her feet since his return. Slowly, she moved to sit on the edge of his bed, toeing off her boots before lying on the outer side so that, should she choose to leave, there was nothing between her and the door. His eyes didn't falter from watching her, and she could feel the burning sensation that accompanied the gaze. She chose to lay on her side, facing the door and giving him plenty of room on the expanse of the mattress behind her.

Marcus removed his own boots, placing them neatly together beneath the place where his jacket hung. His belt was next, the clang of the metal clasp drawing Abigail's attention toward him, but her eyes darted away in a near panic when he turned and took up the end of the bed to crawl in behind her. It was a battle to keep her heart rate under control, now, but she refused to acknowledge why. Her and Marcus Kane were friends. He was merely doing the friendly thing, here. At least, that's what she might have been able to convince herself of had he not positioned an arm around her midsection, pulling her body toward his until her back met with the solidness of his chest. She could feel his warm breath against the back of her neck when he murmured, "You're safe here."

And that's all it took for her to close her eyes and succumb to the exhaustion. She trusted this man, whether she liked it or not.

She wasn't sure of the time when she awoke in his arms, but there was light streaming through the unsealed cracks of the shack, dim and clearly just the first sign of morning. The pad of Marcus' thumb was stroking over the back of her hand, and she would have sworn he'd buried his face even further into her neck while she slept. Everywhere their bodies were touching was warm; those places where his skin was exposed alarmingly cool. "I thought you might want to head back before Clarke wakes up," he whispered gently.

He was awake? "Have you even slept?" Abby managed, her eyes still adjusting to being awake, her words laced with the grogginess she felt. She stirred in his embrace, rolling onto her back so that she would be able to look at him properly.

Kane shook his head very briefly, indicating that he hadn't, but moved the conversation along too quickly for her to chastise him. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"Good."

Abby began to sit up, and Marcus easily took his arm back from around her to give her the space to do so. She was caught between confusion and gratefulness. He'd stayed awake through the night to ensure she got the sleep she desperately needed? Clearing her throat, she still sat on the edge of the bed while she reached down for one of her boots. "Thank you," she offered. For everything.

"Anytime," and then he was moving behind her, shuffling down to the end of the bed to ready himself for the day too, it seemed.

"You could probably still grab a few hours of sleep. You should, Marcus." Abigail attempted to have it sound like an absent suggestion while she adjusted the laces of her boot, loosening it further with the intention of slipping her foot inside. When two socked feet appeared right in her line of vision, however, her attention was drawn up toward the man.

"I'm fine," he echoed her lie from the previous evening. The moment she was partially sitting up, he took a step forward. It happened too quickly for her to stop it (not that she was sure she even wanted to), as though if he didn't go through with this now he wasn't sure he ever would. A hand found the back of her neck, drawing her toward him while he closed most of the distance between their bodies. Abby's lips were already parted slightly when their mouths met in the kiss, a whimper easily being pulled from her with the contact.

Kane didn't waste time; his other hand came up to caress her other cheek, his tongue tracing over her bottom lip only once before exploring further. Abigail was having a difficult time processing, but it only took her another second of delay to slide her own tongue over his, gladly deepening the kiss as hands came to fist in the front of his t-shirt. Her teeth grazed over his mouth, and then the kiss was ending as quickly as it had begun, the brief seconds leaving both of their breathing laboured, chests heaving. Had she opened her eyes, she would have been graced with an unprecedented grin that had settled over Marcus' features.

The Chancellor's mind was racing, her core warm, her reason faltering. Eyes still closed, her hands roamed downward to find the button of his slacks. She'd managed to pop it from it's hole before his hands covered hers, halting her progress. "Abby, you have to go," he told her, a reminder of the time and her absence from her own bed.

Eyes gazing up through sheeted lashes, the woman barely let a beat pass. "I have time," she breathed out, her fingers twitching to be released from his grasp.

Marcus swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "If we do this, it can't be a one time thing."

Abby understood, and she knew that even if she had walked into this with once being her intention, there was too much between and her and Kane to have that be a realistic conclusion. Teeth pressing down into her bottom lip, she stood. There was no space left between their bodies. Pushing onto the tips of her toes, she just lightly brushed her mouth over his. And that was all it took for him to move his hands from hers and to her hips, dragging her body impossibly close. Abby's fingers made quick work of the zipper of his pants while the rough, calloused pads of his fingers pushed their way beneath the bottom hem of her shirt. Every inch of skin that his hands gained access to was ignited, their lips and tongues now engaged in a continuous dance for dominance.

Once she'd managed to push his pants down his hips and he'd lifted her t-shirt right over her head, tossing it to the side, Marcus decided it was time to take charge. Stepping toward Abby, she was forced to lower herself back onto the bed. He discarded his own shirt and stepped out of the slacks before settling his body between her legs, his mouth attentive to the sensitive skin of her neck and clavicle, teeth intermittently making appearances that would leave scrapes she would savor and only he would see. Her hands found their way into his hair, tugging fistfuls to encourage him closer. There was a strain growing against the thin material of his briefs, pressing hot against her thigh, but Marcus knew what he wanted. His hand slipped past the barrier of her jeans, a finger circling over her clit before sliding through the slick warmth gathering between her legs and making its way straight to her opening. Abigail gasped – it had been far too long since anyone other than herself had access to her like this. Returning his attention to her mouth, he stifled whatever noises she might release with a kiss, inserting a second finger without the slightest warning, his hips refusing to still while he pinned her against the mattress.

Abby's hands found their way between their bodies, fumbling only for a moment to push his briefs down his hips. A smirk on his lips, Marcus slowly removed his hand from her, standing back to step out of his last garment and then proceeding to rid his companion of her bothersome pants and panties. He didn't hesitate to take the opportunity to admire her body. It certainly wasn't evident that she'd ever given birth to a child.

"Marcus… please," she strained to whisper, her own eyes on his hardened member, which stood at attention. His grin only grew larger with that, but he did comply, supporting himself with hands on either side of her head as he lowered between her thighs once again. Abby's hand reached impatiently for him, stroking up the length of his member only once before aligning him with her entrance. She bit down into his shoulder, hard, as he slid inside of her. A groan came from his throat, low and primal, while he gave her a moment to adjust to his size before finding a rhythm to thrust into her that only increased in pace.

The Chancellor's legs wrapped around Kane's waist, her hips lifting to meet his motions and deepen their connection further. It wasn't long before the heat in her core was spreading, the muscles in her legs contracting to hold his body tighter, her head spinning with pleasure. Had silence not been so pertinent, God knows she would have been screaming and moaning. Marcus needed no direction to thrust into her harder or faster – it was already his priority, despite knowing that he wouldn't last long himself.

"Abby," came his gruff accent, his face buried into her neck, scruff leaving a path that burned her sensitive skin. "Abby…" He didn't need to finish the thought for her to understand. Determined not to finish before she did, his hand came between them again, the pad of his thumb rubbing vigorously against the mound of nerves he'd started out at. A whimper sounded into his ear, from her mouth, with the contact, and was followed by a moan of his name as the muscles he'd been tantalizing contracted around him, her pleasure peaking only to domino into him doing just the same, warmth exploding within her as he managed to push into her twice more. His body collapsed atop hers, his member still buried within the folds of her sex. Neither of them were convinced that they'd successfully been quiet enough for no one to know what they were doing, but neither of them cared, either.

A few moments were savored before he carefully removed himself from Abby; she would have protested to the emptiness she felt had she not been fully aware of the need to return to the shack that housed her daughter. Peppering light kisses over her jaw, Marcus was content to know that she would return to him once night fell again. He nuzzled against her cheek, dropped one last kiss onto her lips, and then pushed himself to roll to her side. Breathing still unstable, Abby looked over to offer him a smile. Perhaps the first genuine smile he'd seen on those lips since she'd been reunited with her daughter.


End file.
